I’ve been sitting with the third Yoga Sutra lately:

Tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe’vasthānam.

Roughly translated, it means: Then the Seer abides in its true nature.

I am still learning the Sutras. I don’t pretend to be an expert — I’m walking this path slowly, the same way I’ve been walking my decluttering journey. But this line has stayed with me. It feels simple and vast at the same time.

What I understand from it, in my own way, is this:
When the mind becomes quieter, we can actually rest as who we truly are. We are no longer pulled in a thousand directions by our thoughts, our obligations, our emotions, or the world around us. In that quiet, something steadier appears — not new, just clearer.

This is why meditation matters. Not because we are trying to become someone better, but because we are trying to remember who we already are beneath all the noise.

As I’ve reflected on this, I’ve seen how deeply it connects to decluttering.

In the Sutras, there is a term called prakṛti — which refers to everything external to the true Self. That includes the material world, our roles, our thoughts, our habits, our possessions, and all the ways we move through life.

We interact with prakṛti constantly — we have to. But through those interactions, attachments naturally form. We begin to cling: to things, to expectations, to identities, to stories about ourselves. Over time, these attachments pull us further and further outward, away from that quiet center the Sutra is pointing toward.

When my house was fuller, my mind felt fuller too. Every object required my attention — cleaning, organizing, managing, remembering. Even when I sat down to breathe, I could feel that weight humming beneath me.

As I’ve donated more, released more, and let things leave my home, something subtle has shifted. My space is easier to manage. But more importantly, my mind feels less crowded. I have more room to sit in stillness without feeling restless or overwhelmed.

The same is true with thoughts. When I have too much on my plate — emotionally, mentally, or practically — it becomes hard to simply be. My mind keeps reaching outward: worrying, planning, fixing, holding.

But when I simplify — when I set things down, whether they are physical items or mental burdens — I can come back to myself more easily. I can sit, breathe, and notice what is actually here instead of what I’m trying to control.

In this way, decluttering isn’t just about tidying a home. It becomes a spiritual practice. A way of loosening our grip on prakṛti so that the Seer — our truest self — has space to rest.

I don’t think we have to live in empty rooms or renounce the world to experience this. We just need enough space — in our homes and in our minds — to remember who we are beneath it all.

And maybe that is the real gift of both yoga and decluttering:
not becoming something new, but returning to ourselves.

Reflection:
What could you set down — in your home or in your mind — so the Seer has a little more room to rest?